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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344165">Watching Narcissus</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven'>MistyBeethoven</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You with a Story or a Picture" [69]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore, Echo (1993/2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Death, F/M, Flowers, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Labor Day, Mythology References, Narcissism, Pining, Pity, Self absorption, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Understanding, Unrequited Love, Work, compassion - Freeform, ignorance, prose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:48:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A musing on why Echo and myself could not win Narcissus' love.</p><p>And a hastily written Labor Day entry to this series. :/</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Echo/Narcissus (Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore), Narcissus/Echo, Narcissus/Me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You with a Story or a Picture" [69]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Watching Narcissus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So today was supposed to be my day off. I wasn't going to work on anything until tomorrow. Then I realized it was Labor Day. I was never really sure what a Labor Day was until a few days ago. And since I've been posting fics for most Holidays, well...</p><p>So I got out my little book and perused the list of Keanu characters I hadn't tackled yet. Most I wanted to save for more thought out plots. I needed one that was just...well...um...not well developed as a character?</p><p>Then I saw Narcissus and we had a winner...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He does not <em>work</em>.</p><p>That was Echo's downfall. Watching nymph in vain try to win the love of Narcissus, I saw her failure in the lack of realizing this mere fact. Blindly she strove the world to win the affection of a man whom would or <em>could</em> not work at loving anyone save himself.</p><p>When he did bestow upon her some small interest, it was only for the fact that she repeated shallow thoughts back towards ears that listened solely for the man's own words and ideas.</p><p>Perhaps they seemed a perfect match then, Narcissus and his Echo.</p><p>If the man ever lifted one finger it was only for himself and for that which would hardly cause a bead of sweat upon any place other than his much admired physique. Hunting through the world was easy, for he killed that which he pursued and put no more strife nor care towards it. Echo did you ever stop to see past the constant working of your mouth? Anything worth your lover's attention always <em>died</em>. Your fate was to be the same. Turning thy focus on lips and not on mind and heart, the truth that Narcissus could not love that which was not of himself never reached you. That would take too much effort: to acknowledge the existence of that which was not Narcissus. Though you could only hurl his own words back at him, at first intriguing the hunter and lover of self, you still disappointed the man with an image which was not his.</p><p>He would have to labor to truly see you, poor creature, and so he deemed you not worth the attempt.</p><p>And there was your death once more.</p><p>He did not work for your love, Echo. He will not work for mine either, but you fell for Narcissus out of the love of his body alone. You became the essence of your name and echoed his downfall: Narcissus loved only the part of himself that he could see.</p><p>Poor faded, nymph, you did the same.</p><p>When I came cross fair Narcissus, he had already met his doom in his own reflected beauty and been cursed by Olympus for his sin against you. Pity moved my heart, for while he stared at beauty on surface waters, I gazed at a beauty on the surface of flesh and wept for a husk whom contained but a black hollowed, not hallowed, universe of cold space within.</p><p>Now I keep watch over him, waiting for a single star to appear in his destructive void but grieve, expecting nothing, for birthing stars is work in itself, too much for lazy Narcissus.</p><p>Stare, stare...he gazes into water to see himself. Yet he fails to realize it is he, himself, that has earned his own love. That too would take too much effort, you see, and Narcissus cannot abide that.</p><p>To know one's self is a tireless search that even those that do not fear aching of muscle, bleeding fingers and callous of feet do not rush bravely towards. For if one looks into their own soul and sees the truth of that which they are and finds it repulsive or wanting they might be moved enough to change themselves.</p><p>Work.</p><p>Too much work.</p><p>Easier for Atlas to forever hold the celestial sky about his shoulders or for Sisyphus to perpetually roll the boulder of his punishment and Hercules go about his tasks than to change one small and simple vice within the human heart. Sweat on brow shall always be preferable to sweat of soul; so many do not attempt it and seek no reminders of avoidance and ignorance</p><p>Many born of flesh and blood, of their mother's own labor, even if she abandon her child once it has finished, often choose to stare into mirrors of glass at their bodies instead of gazing into reflection they can better see when they close their eyes, recount past deeds and contemplate the true desires, dreams and workings of their heart.</p><p>Narcissus too forsakes the heart for the face that he can see.</p><p>He grows in water now so shallow he cannot drown and save himself from the sin that damned him. Maybe if but the waters were deeper he could find his faults inside them when he went under. Drowning in himself, he could finally understand how he failed not only Echo and I but, most of all, himself. The perfect Divinity of self knowledge, sitting above Olympus and watching pale imitators betray man as man betrays his own kind, knows that this is the first step which will always make the cycle keep repeating like words from Echo's lips: that when souls wound that which they take as another they simply turn a knife upon themselves.</p><p>Tis too late now for my Narcissus. I look and he is gone, replaced by flower.</p><p>Day passes night and night says its farewell to the coming day, yet the flower remains while my beautiful, selfish and empty man has gone!</p><p>I have often left the flower alone to stare at its own beauty. Today, I have plucked it from the water to put it out of its misery and sorrow. For no matter how hard it tries, it cannot truly gaze past the shell of its own beauty and fully see itself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dear Keanu;</p><p>This is probably more off of the myth than your friend Stephen Hamel's short film. That was impossible to write a true fic for because I had no idea what was going on. :/</p><p>I didn't like "Echo" even though I love that myth. You were adorable in it but it was really just kind of...strange. And, I have to admit, I didn't like all the scantily clad or naked dudes. You were excellent...I like seeing you like that *blush*. But I'm demisexual and seeing naked men I don't care for...well it is kind of gross to me. </p><p>It really was a poor abstract work which made me appreciate David Lynch all the more, even if I can get upset at him.</p><p>Speaking of David, (and I hope I haven't mentioned this) I enjoyed seeing you interview him in "Side by Side." But I have to say that he worked best with film. "Blue Velvet," which is one of my favorite films (long live Frank Booth) is gorgeous. "Inland Empire" is interesting but looks horrible like most Lynch work once he started championing digital. :/</p><p>And another speaking of...</p><p>Speaking of "Side by Side" I thought you were great in it too and I learned a lot about both digital and film. But I have to disagree with you on something. In one scene you're talking with a guy, can't remember his name, and he says that there are too many films being made and there should be someone there saying what gets made. You go "Wow" and I could just tell that you were so irritated by the man's statement. But I'd earn a half annoyed "Wow" from you too then. Not about the person telling what gets made, that was pretentious. Who can speak for everybody? But, honestly, if too many films get made we have a problem. How do we find the good ones? They get buried. Needles in haystacks. Or picture this really fantastic singer. If everybody thought they could sing (and American Idol showed us most do) they would drown out that one precious talent if they sang all at once. That special voice would be lost and that would be tragic.</p><p>Digital vs film...hmmm. I thought film was better because I think current movies have an odd look to them and I attributed that to digital before I saw SBS. Now I know film can look that way too. I'm confused though how digital is cheaper when you see the budgets of movies that use it and they are still astronomical. 🤔 Are the computer people rising their costs? I heard that was true with old school animation vs Pixar. </p><p>I guess, what makes me sad about digital vs film is the death of the way films used to be made. You know, Keanu, I used to love the sounds of typewriters clacking away in an old newsrooms. Then those typewriters were replaced by computers and the sound was gone...faded away just like Echo.</p><p>That's what breaks my heart. The death of the past. I still mourn for the passing of time. The slow dissolve of certain ways and traditions and the people whom helped create and make them exist. </p><p>If that makes me obsolete too, I can live with that. Or simply fade away too.</p><p>Much love,<br/>Erin<br/>XO XO<br/>:D &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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